All You Left Behind
by x-Quaaludez-x
Summary: It was his fault that all this happened in the first place. Randy knew Bob better than anyone, it wouldn't have taken much to coax him into going home that night. He could have at least stopped Bob and David from holding that kid in the fountain. He should have made sure the other one wasn't going to be a problem. If he wouldn't have gotten up Bob would still be here right now.


**Boy Stabbed to Death in Local Park.**

_Robert Sheldon, 17, was found dead today in the early hours of the morning in a park on Tulsa's North side. It is believed the boy was stabbed to death late last night. Officers are unsure at this time exactly what happened here last night. Witnesses say there was a struggle between the victim and two other boys that ultimately resulted in this tragedy. Sheldon, a junior at Will Rogers High School, was a quarterback on the school's football team and part of the student council. _

To this day the words still rang clear in his mind. There was nothing he could do to stop it all those years ago and there was nothing he could do to stop it now. He still had the old worn and tattered piece of paper. It wasn't the type of write-up one normally clipped out of the morning newspaper, but the overwhelming sense of guilt had made him do it. He'd clipped it out and everyone after that, Bob's obituary too. At the time he had kept them stashed away neatly in the drawer of his desk. This was all he had left of his best friend now. Over the years the compiled clippings had dwindled down to just one, that very first one, and it was floating around here somewhere.

It had been years since that fateful day. How many exactly Randy wasn't too sure. Five? Seven? Ten? Who was counting anymore? The once popular soc shut down after watching his best friend die and the two little greaseballs that killed him get away with it. He just didn't give a damn about anything. School, football, popularity, money, reputation. It all seemed meaningless now. What was the point of all the fighting now? Really, what did it get them? Three dead kids, none of them a day older than seventeen.

It was his fault that all this happened in the first place. They had been drinking liquor taken out of his father's liquor cabinet. He was the one that encouraged Bob to pull over so they could give those little scumbags what they deserved for picking up on their women. Randy knew Bob better than anyone, it wouldn't have taken much to coax his drunk friend into going home that night. He could have at least stopped Bob and David from holding that kid in the fountain. He should have made sure the other one wasn't going to be a problem. If he wouldn't have gotten up Bob would still be here right now. If Randy would have been paying attention instead of laughing at his friends holding some kid underwater he would have seen it coming. No matter how you looked at it this was all his fault.

There wasn't much he did now but think of what he could have, should have, done. He was a ghost of his former self finishing up school and in the time after. He didn't end up going to college, much to his parent's displeasure. There was a lot of fighting after that but arguing with Randy was about as useful as arguing with a wall. It didn't take long for his parents to kick him out, his so-called "friends" to stop caring. Marcia stuck around for a while, but in time she left too, just like everyone else.

Randy was completely and utterly alone.

The only thing he had now was his van. He sold the car his parents got him and just about everything else he had for a broken down old van and a little bit of cash. The van had plenty of room for him to stay in, and he used the cash to score some angel dust. That was all he did anymore, whatever drugs he could get his hands on. It wasn't the high that he was chasing. The euphoric feeling was a bonus, but he enjoyed being taken to another place more than anything. He could see people for what they really were. Snakes, lizards, rats, beasts, all walking the streets dressed important, like they meant something to the world. Didn't they know how silly they looked? They weren't fooling him anymore, he just laughed at them. It was the only time he felt alright anymore. It didn't even bother him much when these animal people barked at him throwing those big bold angry red words at him, or the cloudy purple words of confusion, even their squiggly orange words of fear.

What did they know? He knew the truth, and at least Bob didn't think he was crazy. That was all that mattered anymore. Bob didn't think he was crazy, he'd sit right there next to him and laugh. It was so nice to hear that laugh again, even to hear Bob gripe at him about taking a shower and shaving. Anything was better than living in the cold dark lifeless world alone. Bob still looked the same as he did the last time Randy had seen him, right down to the blood soaked plaid shirt. At first it had scared Randy, he nearly drove his van into a tree, but not anymore.

All it took was one little tablet, and everything felt better. But it never lasted long enough. Now it was just a flash of color, a mix of sound, everything spinning out of control, and then it was over. He was back to his dull depressing existence. What happened? It used to be enough, now it didn't do a damn thing. All he wanted was to feel alive again. Maybe more was the solution. Maybe it would take him back to a place where everything was nice and carefree, when the future was bright and they had their whole lives ahead of them.

Slowly his eyes drifted closed and he hoped, prayed, and wished with ever fiber of his being that when he opened his eyes everything would be okay again. Randy would give anything to go back to that day, _anything_. The feeling this time around was much more intense as the drugs took a hold of him. It felt like everything was shaking and changing, a feeling greater than he had ever experienced before. Then suddenly it stopped. No more movement, no more sound, no more dark dingy old van.

When he opened his eyes there were no colors, or monster people. There was Bob, and he looked good. He wasn't the raggity rotting corpse that Randy had become accustom to; he looked alive again. This was all Randy had wanted, for all these years.

As if he knew what Randy had been thinking Bob shook his head, that half amused grin on his lips that he used to have when Randy did something dumb. "Come on, man," He said clapping Randy on the shoulder. "You'll like it a lot better here." Without question Randy went along with it; he was finally free.


End file.
